ANI MAAMIN - I belive...
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Maimonides, in his commentary on the Mishnah, compiles what he
refers to as the Shloshah-Asar Ikkarim, the Thirteen Articles of
Faith, compiled from Judaism's 613 commandments found in the
Torah.
The Thirteen Articles of Jewish faith are as follows:
1. Belief in the existence of the Creator, be He Blessed, who is
perfect in every manner of existence and is the Primary Cause
of all that exists.
2. The belief in G-d's absolute and unparalleled unity.
3. The belief in G-d's noncorporeality, nor that He will be
affected by any physical occurrences, such as movement, or
rest, or dwelling.
4. The belief in G-d's eternity.
5. The imperative to worship Him exclusively and no foreign false
gods.
6. The belief that G-d communicates with man through prophecy.
7. The belief that the prophecy of Moses our teacher has
priority.
8. The belief in the divine origin of the Torah.
9. The belief in the immutability of the Torah.
10. The belief in divine omniscience and providence.
11. The belief in divine reward and retribution.
12. The belief in the arrival of the Messiah and the messianic
era.
13. The belief in the resurrection of the dead.
It is the custom of many congregations to recite the Thirteen
Articles, in a slightly more poetic form, beginning with the
words Ani Maamin - "I believe" -- every day after the morning
prayers in the synagogue.
In his commentary on the Mishnah (Sanhedrin, chap. 10),
Maimonides refers to these thirteen principles of faith as
"the fundamental truths of our religion and its very
foundations."
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The thirteenth and final principle of Maimonides' Fundamental
Articles of Jewish faith is the belief in the resurrection of
the dead.
Jewish writings stipulate that forty years after the coming of
the Messiah there will be a resurrection of the dead, and all
who are lying in dust will rise to new life.
(Concerning great tzaddikim, saintly men, it is written that
they will rise immediately after the Messiah's arrival).
Perhaps due to the natural human disposition to reject such
a radical concept, Maimonides goes to great length to emphasize
its importance:
"Resurrection of the dead is one of the fundamental
principles in the Torah of our master Moses.
"There is neither Jewish faith nor any attachment to the
Jewish faith, for an individual who does not believe in
this" (Introduction to Perek Helek).
In his Mishneh Torah, too, Maimonides concludes that both the
one who denies the concept of resurrection of the dead or the
one who denies the coming of the Messiah are among those who have
forfeited their share in Olam Haba -- the Hereafter (Mishneh
Torah Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:6).
Because Maimonides dealt summarily with the question of
resurrection, and did not elaborate upon it as he did in
regard to the other Articles of Faith, there were those among
his contemporaries who criticized him for this summary treatment
of this important topic.
In order to dispel all doubts concerning his stand on this
important question, Maimonides wrote, some twenty-five years
later, his Treatise on the Resurrection of the Dead, in which
he reiterates unequivocally that belief in Techiyat Hameitim
is an integral and indispensable principle of Torah faith.
Whereupon, Maimonides cites two verses in Daniel concerning
this matter, as follows:
"In truth, this Resurrection [principle], which entails
the return of the soul to the body after death, was already
mentioned, in no uncertain terms, by Daniel.
"Thus, he says, `And many of them that sleep in the dust
of the earth shall awake. ...' And the Angel said to
Daniel, `But you, go to the end of all flesh and rest;
and stand in your lot at the end of the days.'
[Daniel 12:2-13]
Observing that he can not do much more in this essay than
reiterate that which he already stated in his commentary on
the Mishnah, Maimonides writes:
"And I will state that the resurrection of the dead --
which is widely known and recognized among our people,
which is accepted by all groups among us, which is
mentioned on numerous occasions in the tefillot, Aggadot,
and supplications that were composed by the Prophets and
the great Sages, who fill the pages of the Talmud and the
Midrashim -- refers to the return of the soul to the body
after it had departed.
"Concerning this, there has never been heard any
disagreement in our nation, nor does it have any
[allegorical] interpretation [other than its literal
meaning]. Nor is it permissible to rely upon any
individual who believes otherwise."
Further on in this essay, the Maimonides concludes with a similar
observation:
"In conclusion, we have been informed prophetically
[concerning Techiyat Hameitim], whether on one or on
many occasions, and it has been mentioned countless times
by Sages of Israel, both of earlier and of recent times,
and it has become widely publicized in our nation, and
there is universal consensus concerning this, that the
human soul will return to the body. And this is the
proper approach concerning the resurrection of the dead."
This difficult concept requires enormous elaboration and
discussion, not to mention an outlining of its many facets
and stages.
Notwithstanding this general need, there are two specific
questions that immediately spring to mind:
First, what makes the belief in the resurrection of the
dead a cardinal article of Jewish faith?
The entire Torah is true, but not all the articles of
the Torah are considered to be a cardinal principles of
Jewish belief.
When something is enumerated among the cardinal Articles
of Faith, the implication is that it forms a foundation,
a pillar that supports the entire structure of Judaism.
What, then, is so incredibly important about the belief
in the resurrection of the dead that ALL of Judaism rests
upon it?
Second, the very concept of the resurrection of the
dead seems odd. Why is it necessary for a soul that
has frolicked in the Garden of Eden for thousands of years
to suddenly be torn from that wonderful abode and re-enter
a physical body and repeat living on earth.
Kabbalistic literature devotes much time to describing how the
souls in the Garden of Eden are constantly elevating themselves
to higher and higher levels in their knowledge of G-d.
The Talmud (Berakhot 64a) finds a scriptural proof for this
concept: "The righteous have no peace, not in this world and
not in the world to come, as it is written, 'They ascend from
strength to strength' (Psalm 84)."
What this means is that there are elevations on a daily basis
for the soul where it enjoys a greater and higher revelation
of G-dliness.
An ascendance of much higher magnitude is enjoyed on each
anniversary of the day of the passing of the soul, known as
Yahrzeit. The following year the soul rises even higher.
Based on this insight, the sublimity of G-dly revelation enjoyed
by the souls of our forefathers Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, for
example, and similarly those of Moses and the great prophets,
the authors of the Mishnah and the Talmud, whose souls have been
in the Garden of Eden for thousands of years, can be instantly
appreciated.
Why, then, is it necessary for these souls to suddenly leave this
exceptional abode and return to this world in a physical body?
Practically speaking, it appears that resurrection of the dead
is part of the reward promised by G-d for the observance of the
Torah and its commandments.
It would appear that this reward subdivides into two categories:
One in the Garden of Eden, when the souls are separated from
their bodies, and the other on earth, when the soul is once again
enclothed in the body.
The resurrection of the dead comes after the souls have already
dwelled in the Garden of Eden; they must leave the Garden of Eden
in order to be re-enclothed in the body.
We must conclude that the latter reward, in the form of the
resurrection of the dead, is far greater than that of the Garden
of Eden.
If this were not the case, then the resurrection of the dead
would be more like a punishment rather than a reward. But what
kind of a reward is this?
What could a soul possible enjoy more on earth, trapped in
a physical shell, more than the G-dliness in the Garden of Eden.
How, in truth, is the resurrection of the dead to be considered
a reward at all?
There are those who explain that the purpose of the resurrection
of the dead is to provide reward, not for the soul, but for the
body.
Just as the soul has its own special place where it is rewarded
in the Garden of Eden in its natural environment and habitat from
which it was originally extracted, so too the body must return
to its domain, where it too can be rewarded with the pleasures
in which it delights.
And being that a reward must always be qualitatively similar
to its cause, the body must be returned together with the soul
to the place where it earned the reward in the first place.
We find a similar thought in the expressed in the Talmud, where
it relates how the body complains to G-d that it should not be
punished since it was due to the soul that it sins.
After all, without the soul the body is a lifeless mass.
Likewise, the soul complains that it is the body that caused
it to sin, for only after it materializes in the body can it
commit a sin at all.
The Talmud then uses an anecdote to describe how the Al-mighty
settles this dispute:
"A king chose two guardians to protect his garden. One was blind
and the other a midget. What did they do? The blind man put the
midget on his shoulders and through this they were able to eat
all the fruits of the garden.
"The king returned, furious, and questioned them as to what had
happened to his fruit.
"Each one explained to the king how he could not have eaten the
fruits on his own due to his own deficiency.
"What did the king then do?
"He put the stout man on top of the blind man and judged them
as one" (Sanhedrin 91 a,b).
So, too, says the Talmud, "G-d brings the soul, puts it into
the body, and judges them together as one."
Now, if this is said concerning punishment, it must also be the
case concerning reward.
Thus, if G-d wishes to reward the body, it must be done the way
the body once existed, synthesized together with the soul.
The resurrection of the dead is necessary to reward the body.
In truth, however, this explanation is insufficient.
Whereas it may suffice in explaining why the soul must leave
the Garden of Eden and again be reenclosed in the body, it does
nothing to solve our second dilemma, namely, how it is possible
that the reward for the soul enclothed in the body on this earth
should be greater than its spiritual reward in the Garden of
Eden.
On the contrary, from this explanation, it seems that the whole
purpose of the resurrection of the dead is to reward the body
without any consideration for its effects on the soul.
The resurrection of the dead is one of those concepts that best
illustrates the superiority of the physical body over the
soul.
Although superficially the body seems not only subordinate
but almost humiliatingly perverse in comparison to the purity,
spirituality, and G-dliness of the soul, the truth is that the
body has far greater virtue than the soul.
Therefore, so that the supremacy of the body over the soul be
revealed in the messianic era, representing the culmination of
the whole creative process, the soul will be forced to be
reenclothed in the body.
In this way too, the soul will be able to benefit and share the
lofty attributes of the physical body.
The knowledge of the body being superior to the soul is not
surprising.
The very fact that the soul is forced to leave G-d's environment
and be enclothed in a body against its will is proof of the fact
that it stands to gain from the experience.
One should not underestimate the enormous decline and humiliation
felt by the soul to when it is forced into the body.
An illustration of just how great a descent this really is may
be obtained from the morning prayers.
Almost immediately upon awakening we state, "My G-d, the soul
that You have given within me is pure. You have created it, You
have formed it, You have breathed it into me and preserve it
within me."
A question that is posed concerning this passage is:
If it is true that there is a whole procedure through which
the soul comes into being, as the prayer implies, "You have
created it, You have formed it, You have breathed it," why
then do the words "it is pure" proceed "You have created it"?
How could it be pure before it existed?
The explanation given is that "You have created it" is a
reference to the soul the way it exists after it has already
entered the first created, albeit, spiritual world, known as
Olam Habriyah, through which it must pass before it can descend
further and reach the physical world.
In other words, one should not believe that before the soul
is "created" that it did not exist.
Before it even began its descent through the spiritual hierarchy,
the soul lingered in the highest of worlds, Olam Haatzilut, the
world of emanation, a world whose makeup is not a creation of
G-d, but an extension of Him.
Kabbalah speaks of four "worlds," with only one actually being
physical, namely, the bottom one, Olam Haasiyah.
The three higher worlds, in order -- Atzilut, Briyah, and
Yetzirah -- are all G-dly, but in a different degree.
The highest of all the worlds, Olam Haatzilut, bears its name
because it is not considered to be a "created world."
Rather, it is a world of "emanation."
It is still an emanation, rather than a creation of G-d.
As such, it is still technically considered to be part of the
G-dhead.
The world of Briyah, though, bears its name because it is the
beginning of something that is disconnected from the G-dhead,
or created. It is thus infinitely lower than Aztilut, although
it is still a spiritual world.
This is the reason why the soul is referred to as being pure.
It stands at the very highest plateau, higher than anything
created.
It is only after it is obligated to descend that the soul must
take a quantum leap downward and reemerge in the created
world.
It is then that it is referred to as being a created entity.
In the Hebrew language, the word bara, "created," a verb used
in Scriptures exclusively with reference to divine activity,
is explained by the commentators as referring to producing
something out of nothing (yesh me'ayin), creation ex nihilo.
As the Ramban comments, "There is no expression in Hebrew for
producing something from nothing other than the word bara,
'created.'
Thus, the word 'created' symbolizes an object that is now
unattached to G-d, since it is brought into existence as
something from nothing.
Thus, the magnitude of descent for the soul can be appreciated.
The Talmud expresses it aptly: 'The soul descends from a high
mountain to a deep pit'" (Hagigah).
Why is this necessary?
Why must the soul fall from such unimaginable heights?
The answer is that this descent is for the purpose of a much
greater ascent, later.
Through the soul descending into the body and experiencing the
tension and turmoil of being in constant battle with the evil
inclination, it merits a much higher ascent.
The soul must fight for the human organism to conform with the
guidelines of G-dly law amid the conniving of the animal soul
to frustrate its plans.
But the struggle bears fruit -- the soul is able to ascend to
an infinitely higher level than that where it existed previously.
To illustrate the concept of a descent for the purpose of a later
ascent, when the waters of a river flow without any obstruction,
they flow smoothly, calmly, and without great force.
But when one puts an obstruction in the path of the flowing
water, such as a large stone or tree trunk, the first consequence
is that the flow of the water is stalled and sometimes stopped
completely.
It may even appear further down river that the stream has
completely dried up.
But little by little the water begins to gather more strength
as it piles up against the obstruction whereupon it suddenly
breaks through the obstruction with great force and fury.
So strong is the water at this point that it will even pull the
stone along with it and it will appear as if there had never been
an obstacle in its path.
Interestingly, it is specifically the obstacle that brings
about the terrible strength and fury of the water after a brief
interlude in its flow.
This same principle applies to the soul.
It is remarkably the descent of the soul onto earth that brings
in its wake the strengthening of its power and heightening of its
spiritual acclaim.
The impediments to holiness faced in this world, the concealment
and hiddenness of the G-dly that forces the soul to break through
the darkness, serves to develop the full infinite potential of
the soul so that it rises even above its standing in heaven.
Tapping into hidden reservoirs of strength, fortitude, and
stamina, the soul flicks aside the obstruction that the world
poses to G-dliness.
Another example of descent for the sake of ascent is the exile
in which we find ourselves today.
Exile is not a punishment for the Jewish people's misdeeds.
Rather, the exile is only a preparation for the great revelations
of the messianic era ahead.
It is specifically through the trials and ordeals of exile that
the Jew musters within himself high spiritual qualities he never
knew himself to possess.
Certainly in Temple times the Jew was not called upon to unearth
and reveal such deep-seated devotion and commitment in remaining
observant and united with his G-d.
Anyone who doubted G-d's sovereignty over the world could go to
the Temple and see ten daily miracles.
There was no room for doubt.
To be sure, those generations had their own tests.
But exchanging Judaism for materialism and craving acceptance
by their non-Jewish neighbors were not among them.
Today when Jews find themselves in Gentile lands, their thirst
for G-dliness is heightened, and they are able to awaken greater
strength to fulfill mitzvot and enhance their ability to draw
nearer to G-d.
This will be better understood by way of yet another analogy.
When a person finds himself in the desert or similar
circumstances without water, his thirst for water is much
greater than someone in the city where water is abundant, even
if objectively both of them have drunk the same amount of water
that day.
The very fact that the individual in the city can drink at any
time he so desires causes his mind not to worry or think about
water.
But the person who is wandering through the desert knows that
even if he wishes to drink, there is no water to be found.
Because of this, he thinks about the water, constantly making him
more and more thirsty.
The same is true during the times of the exile when G-dliness is
difficult to come by and the world's moral and ethical standards
are on the decline.
This causes the individual to thirst for G-dly revelation and
yearn for more holiness in his life.
There is a fascinating modern-day Jewish development.
Thousands of people are returning to Jewish observance and
struggling to bring more G-dliness into their lives.
What is so interesting about this phenomenon is its cause.
Rabbi Joseph Isaac Schneersohn of Lubavitch discusses the
phenomenon of the baal Teshuvah (returnee) and asks what causes
him to return?
Could it be because of his sudden appreciation for the values
of Judaism or that he thought Judaism would bring holiness into
his life?
Neither of these reasons can be accurate.
After all, this is someone who in most cases has not grown up
with Jewish observance.
From whence shall he appreciate it?
The Rebbe concludes that he is not running to Judaism (which he
does not know), but rather he is running away from where he is.
It is not that Judaism may be attractive, but that he recognizes
that his present situation is devoid of holiness and removed from
G-dliness.
It is a sense of emptiness and despair in his life and a lack
of meaning that motivates the returnee to run to G-d.
This phenomenon could only happen in our times, where there is
such a poverty of overt G-dliness.
The way in which to overcome the darkness of the exile is to
devote oneself tirelessly to bringing the Messiah.
When one does so, one does not feels exile as this shady and
awesome presence looming over him.
Rather, the feeling is that one's whole being and purpose
of one's existence is to pursue this path in life, to dispel
the darkness from the earth. This brings a person to feel
that he is in control of his own destiny and truly free, rather
than a prisoner of the exile.
This was the inner meaning of the famous statement by Rabbi
Yehoshua ben Levi in Ethics of the Fathers, where he states,
"[It is stated in Scripture, 'the tablets were the work of
G-d and the writing was the writing of G-d, harut (engraved)
on the tablets.' Do not read harut (engraved) but rather heirut
(freedom) for there is no free man except one who occupies
himself with the study of Torah" (Ethics of the Fathers
6:2).
The meaning of this statement is that one who sees G-d's unity
encompassing all of existence will be liberated from the exile
and the dominion of the animal soul, which lead man to feel
that he is distant from G-d.
Therefore, through a true appreciation of the G-d's all-
encompassing unity, and one's unique place within the scheme
of things, one comes to know his true self.
The self which is "always and united and attached to You [G-d]"
(Prayer liturgy for Sukkot -- Hoshannot).
But all of the above is only one side of the explanation of
the virtue acquired by the soul in its descent to our world.
Ultimately, this explanation is incomplete because it fails to
recognize the virtue of the body and material existence.
On the contrary, this explanation dwells on the obstruction
that the physical poses to spirituality and its concealment of
G-dliness.
The physical serves to enhance G-dliness precisely because
it obstructs it, as in the example of the stone in the river.
Accordingly, the virtue gained by the soul by being in the body
has nothing to do with the virtue of the body, but rather with
its unG-dliness.
Only a deep and proper understanding of the resurrection of
the dead will teach one the virtue of the physical realm and
the body over the spiritual realm.
The resurrection of the dead comes only after the soul has
already been involved with the body for a lifetime.
Whatever gains or virtue it could possibly have received from
the body, be it from the body's positive or negative aspects,
it must have already received.
The resurrection of the dead is also after the soul has reentered
the Garden of Eden, enjoying an infinitely higher now level of
spirituality than it did before its descent.
Here, too, it whatever attributes that are to be had in the
Garden of Eden.
Yet notwithstanding this, it is still necessary for the soul
to again descend from its high standing in Eden and reinvest
itself in the body.
This could only mean that the physical body, while in the
physical world, can give something to the soul which the Garden
of Eden and the highest spiritual worlds cannot.
The physical world possesses an incredibly strong G-dly presence,
far higher than the G-dly life-force that sustains the
nonmaterial worlds.
The reason is simple: the spiritual worlds are worlds of light.
In them G-d's radiance and splendor shine visibly.
From an analogy of the sun, we can appreciate that the sun
comprises two disparate concepts: a luminary, and the light.
They are not the same.
While the light of the sun may extend to the entire solar system
and the closer one is to the sun, the greater the heat and the
more intense the rays, nonetheless, none of this light, no matter
how close to the sun it may be, can be put into a box.
Why?
Because it is only light and is not source independent.
It is an extension, but not the essence of the sun.
The same standard applies to the spiritual worlds.
Because of their proximity to G-d, they are indeed lofty and
holy.
Nevertheless, they are merely a ray, an extension of G-d's light.
They have none of G-d's essence.
It is like the difference between the scent of an object and
the object itself. The spiritual worlds are mere fragrance,
they possess no tangible essence.
But our physical world is not a world of light.
It is a world of essence.
The reason is simple: This world was not brought into being
through G-d radiating His light, but through G-d calling it
forth from nothingness into a created reality.
The ability to create something from nothing can only be done
by G-d, Who is infinite.
The very concept is inconceivable to the limited human mind.
Thus, this world is a part not only of G-d's light, which of
course shines naturally, but from an infinite creative act that
involved G-d's deepest and most personal faculties.
Insofar as G-d must constantly re-create the world in order to
keep it in existence, as explained earlier, the very material of
the world, what sustains it and what it is, in truth is G-d's
essence.
Our world emanates from G-d's deepest, most inner Self.
There is nothing closer to Him.
In our time though, G-d's sustaining life force is hidden.
In the future, however, at the time of the resurrection of the
dead in the messianic epoch it will be revealed for all to see.
One can only imagine what such revelation will bring.
But one thing is clear.
It will be infinitely higher than any revelation in the world
thus far, or any other experience that the soul could have
experienced in the Garden of Eden.
The messianic era will also not be a world of light.
The essence of G-d that comprises our world will be seen.
This is the reason for the belief in the resurrection of the dead
being counted amongst the Principle Articles of Jewish faith.
Rabbi Shneur Zalman explains in the Tanya (chap. 37) that the
purpose of the descent of the soul to earth is not really for the
soul's advantage, the notion traditionally held in the Kabbalah.
After all, the soul is not so bad off in the Garden of Eden.
And although it too benefits from its descent, it would have
been happy to remain right where it was. The real purpose for
the descent of the soul into the body, is the refinement and
elevation of the body in its physical condition.
The purpose of the Torah and mitzvot is to bring G-dliness
into an otherwise unG-dly world, thus consecrating all material
existence.
While it is true that this descent also benefits the soul it is
still not its principal purpose.
The same is true of the entire creative process.
It is not the physical world that is created to serve the
spiritual worlds.
Rather, all the spiritual worlds were created only for the
purpose of facilitating the development and nurturing of
G-dliness in the physical world and ultimately executing G-d's
wish of creating a dwelling place for Himself in the lowest of
all possible worlds.
As explained above, this itself is accomplished through every
mitzvah that refines a certain portion of the physical world.
And through the cumulative activities of thousands of
generations, we complete the polishing of the world until it
is ready for the messianic redemption.
It is THIS knowledge that gives the individual the comfort and
excitement in going about his daily religious obligations.
He understands that he is working toward a glorious time and that
his every activity plays an indispensable role. He understands
that he is literally bringing G-d into his world.
But amid this sense of comfort, a discomforting and devastating
thought sends a shock to the system.
What good is it, one asks oneself, this ongoing elevation and
sublimation of the body, when one day, in the not-too-distant
future, the body will die and decay, reverting to dust and
nothingness?
Why labor seventy or eighty years in the refining and raising
the body to a higher state of being when in the final analysis
the body is insignificant and transient?
At least the soul goes to heaven.
But the body goes to the grave!
Moreover, it seems that the ephemeral nature of life and the body
is wholly part of what the body is.
The Torah itself attests to the need of the body to return to
the dust from whence it issued. "Dust you are, and to dust shall
you return" (Genesis 2:19). The very essence of the body is
evanescent, and by virtue of its natural condition it dies and
decays.
Therefore, even while the body is alive, it is not a "real"
existence in the Torah definition of the word, for the Torah
equates all transitory existence with illusion and deceit.
This is derived from the Talmud in its discussion of the waters
that were allowed to be used for ritual purification in a mikvah.
Generally speaking, the water had to be drawn from a living
spring.
Among the water sources that were not to be used the Talmud lists
a "deceitful" river, mayim hamekhazvot.
What exactly is a deceptive river?
The Talmud defines it as any river whose waters cease their flow
even once in seven years.
The water's cessation indicates that this is not a living spring,
a real river.
And although now indeed it is flowing, its present state deceives
the eye. It is not a "living spring," but a false and lifeless
illusion.
Now, if something that expires is deceptive and valueless, what
good is there in spending a lifetime in illuminating the body?
Notwithstanding man's actions, it will revert to its previous
darkness.
This realization can be the cause of immense frustration and
suck out the very life from the Jew who is dedicated to the
purification of the body.
It also serves to detract from one's understanding of the entire
purpose for creation and the giving of the Torah.
Hence, it is here that we can appreciate the central importance
occupied in Judaism by the belief in the belief in the
resurrection of the dead.
The belief in the resurrection of the dead expresses the absolute
truth that the expiration and corrosion of the body is but only
a temporary phenomenon.
The truth of the matter is that the body is a very sublime
entity, in fact an eternal one.
Rabbi Shneur Zalman explains in the Tanya (chap 49) that the
Torah statement of G-d having "chosen us from every other nation
and tongue" (Daily Morning Prayers) applies to the body which
"bears in its corporal state a identical resemblance to the
bodies of the nations of the world" (Tanya, chap. 49).
G-d did not chooses the Jewish soul at Sinai, but the Jewish
body.
What Rabbi Shneur Zalman means to say with this radical
pronouncement is this: One cannot contend that the element of
the Jew chosen by G-d is the soul, for what kind of choice could
there possibly be with a soul.
The nature of real choice is that it can only exist amongst
identical, or at the very least, extremely similar objects.
If one is told to choose between a pile of ashes and a pile of
gold, is there really a choice?
Must one enter into any conscious or even subconscious to
determine which one should select?
Real choice exists only where the objects to be chosen are alike.
Thus, the quality of "chosen" possessed by the Jewish must
pertain to the body and not the Jewish soul.
For the Jewish soul, by virtue of its inordinately high spiritual
character, made a choice between it and another spiritual form
impossible.
The Jewish soul is said to be a part of G-d Himself.
What choice could there be?
What emerges from this proof is that the body is the possessor
of sublime virtue and is the chosen of G-d.
G-d's choice has lent to it the quality of permanence.
G-d chose the body not for seventy or eighty years, but for
all time. And although the body may die and disintegrate, this
is only a provisional state.
In the messianic epoch the body will once again rise in the
resurrection and will exist for ever and ever.
The belief in the resurrection of the dead forms a basic
foundation of the Jewish faith.
Thanks to this belief, one knows that the physical body, to which
one dedicates one's entire effort in Torah and mitzvot, and for
whose elevation one toils eighty or ninety years, is an eternal
entity.
One's struggle on behalf of the body will never be in vein.
The body dies temporarily, only to reawaken to everlasting
eternal life.
As the famous principle of Talmudic law teaches, "Any change that
reverts back to its original condition is not considered to be
a change at all" (Bava Kamma 67a; Sukkah 30b).
Thus, the ongoing battle to purify, refine, and uplift the body
and all of material existence has an eternal result.
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From:
"The Wolf Shall Lie With the Lamb"
Authored by Rabbi Shmuel Boteach (Oxford University)
Printed by Jason Aronson Press, Montvale, NJ
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